Thursday, August 20, 2009

4 weeks

Yesterday my baby turned 4 weeks old. He's growing into a little man already, and somehow I'm already missing newborn Gray, the tiny little 5 pound 7 ounce man that we brought home from the hospital, who was still so sleepy and had so much to learn.

4 weeks ago yesterday was both the best and worst day of my life. The best for obvious reasons, I have the cutest most wonderful son in the world and I finally got to meet him on July 22nd. The worst because he did not come into this world on our terms, he came on the doctor's terms, on the hospital's terms, and I'm still beating myself up over the way things went, the decisions that had to be made and the failure of my body.

He is the love of my life. I can't imagine if he would've been hurt or died in labor. I can't imagine if we'd tried to wait him out - I probably wouldn't be here to see him, and I don't know if he'd be here, either. I hate that I look back at his birthday and all I want to do is cry. I wish I could have a do-over. I wish I could fight that doctor and tell her how dumb she is. I wish I would've been stronger. I wish I would've been more knowledgeable.

He is gaining weight steadily now. He's my strong little man and he doesn't know that his birthday makes his mommy cry. Luckily he makes me smile. His round little tummy and his big blue/gray/brown/hazel eyes that look like a strange colored version of his daddy's. Seeing my little nose on his face and watching him curl his big toes like I always did when I was a baby. The sound of his cry that I knew instinctively even when we were in the hospital. The way he cries a little before he poo's and smiles when he farts. The way he looks so determined when he starts to nurse, and furrows his brow a little. His sweet little dimples in his cheeks. There was more good than bad on July 22nd, more good than I could ever imagine from one tiny person.

I'm already starting to forgive myself, a little at a time. I'll never be OK with what happened, never feel completely happy about those events, but I think I can come to a point eventually where I don't need to think about it very often. And that would be good.


  1. I am trying so hard to focus on the positive with our daughter. There were so many things that happened during her birth, with the hospital, with the agency, that make me want to scream that all I can do is know that the end result was worth it.

    Breathe in. Breath out.

  2. Of course, you did nothing wrong! You were faced with a difficult challenge, and you did what you could. And afterward, you told me your story, and my birth was the better for it, because i had learned from you. It wasn't for nothing. So thank you for giving me strength, because your birth story became part of mine.